Heart of an Arc
by Mudsaur
Summary: It's RWBY, it's Kingdom Hearts, all with a video game world twist on top. Do I need to spell it out? Why did I make this - no clue. Just bored, had a day off, yatta yatta. Read if you're into that sorta thing.
1. Chapter 1

Jaune Arc has dreamt before, but none so quite alike to this.

Falling. An ever fall. He was falling into shadow. An odd dream which seemed to have no end.

He felt his clothes shake with the wind, but neither felt nor heard the breeze. He breathed, but didn't feel his lungs take in the air. He tried to talk, to shout, to scream or beg for a call in return, but no sound escaped him. His thoughts seemed to be the only thing to be heard, as curious as that seemed.

 _This is too weird._

 ** _Weird. WEIRD. too weird._**

It almost felt like he heard the worlds spoken from his lips.

Only too curious, as the words came from echoes of his thoughts.

 _This is a dream. I need to wake up._

 ** _Dream. Wake UP. Do you really?_**

 _I have to._

 ** _To. HAVE to. Are you sure?_**

 _Yes._

This went on for some time. Just more falling. Falling. Falling. Falling…falling…fall…

And then there was light.

A sun. A town. Buildings from right to left. Scattered amongst trees and a cleared, stone road. No one around, just an empty and soundless place.

No. Not empty. Someone was there.

A girl stood in the street. A bit older then Jaune, who only just recently knew the hardships which teenage years brought on with vengeance, but there was a confident poise to her. Even with her back turned to him, Jaune knew she was important, garbed in a slender red and gold dress.

The new figure turned. Long black hair, striking pair of eyes, confident smile. That smile…

She held out her hand.

The world started to break. The houses tore and flew to the sky. The stone road began to shatter, showing dark puddles beneath them. And behind the girl, a dark wave with red eyes moved towards her.

Jaune ran to her. Hand held out, trying to grab her. The words he wished to shout fell on soundless lips. All he could do was show urgency to his features, even as the shadow took the girl.

It swallowed him, too.

It was dark now. Everything. Not a piece of light to be found. He was drowning, but he didn't need to breathe. The shadows pressed and pushed him back, but he tried to fight it. Tried to move forward, knowing that the stranger was still there. Still with her hand out and wishing to be taken. But he couldn't reach it, the pull was too strong. He couldn't fight it anymore, he was too weak.

He fell again.

Then, he rose. There was a light. The sun, he thought. The darkness was pushing him to the light.

Now, these were new buildings. A tall, towering structure. With spires which rose high and great columns of granite brick. He was sitting on cold stone. Where did it all come from? He thought he might have recognized the place, but his thoughts-

There was someone else.

Another girl. Different, but still colorful. Livelier, too. She waved to him, red hair shaking with her active moves. She smiled to him, too, but this look was sweeter than the other's. More innocent. Jaune felt himself smiling back, the happiness of the girl contagious as he moved to meet beside her. Where this sense of familiarity came from, he couldn't say. But he felt…

Her expression changed. Her eyes locked to something upwards, behind him.

Jaune turned to where her panic focused on. Something was falling. Many things, from the clouds and sky. One more than other, as a person with waving blond hair, brown and blue clothing closed the distance between himself and-

The ground fell again. He fell with it. The girl didn't seem so troubled by this, watching as he went.

Again, he started to fall. Fall into shadow. And for a long while again, he neither felt the air, the breath, or the feeling of anything.

And then, his body moved.

Not of his will, his feet shifted down. No longer was he diving deep, but falling now. And slowing. Slowing to a crawl. His legs bracing themselves for a landing he did not know how he knew was coming.

But land he did.

But on what?

He looked around. Didn't move, for worry he might step on something without form and begin falling again. But this place was dark with only a faded light from something above to show him any sight of anything.

This became tiresome quickly. He took a daring first step.

And the surface became alit.

The dark surface vanished like a cloak had been pulled from it. A light, blinding, took over. And for a moment, it was tricky to make out what new thing he was finding stable footing on.

But then, even when he grew used to the new light and found himself on a tower or platform of some sorts, this new station was odd.

It was…a mural. A mural of someone.

It was intricate. A golden-bronze colored thing, flat but looking as if it were carved into the make. And at the center was a figure. A girl, a bit older than him, dressed in a respectable, if a little old-fashioned, blue dress. She had long black hair and a charming smile. She seemed to be awake, but her eyes were closed. And beside her, small circled images with faces were lit. One of an old man, another of a dark-skinned woman, a rough-looking man, and a metal bird.

None of this meant anything to Jaune, but the image still captivated him.

 ** _So much to do._**

A voice behind him. He turned. No one to be seen in the darkness.

 ** _So little time._**

The voice was over him. He looked up, but there was no one again. Only shadows.

 ** _Take your time. Don't be afraid._**

Afraid? Afraid of what? What was there to be afraid of?

 ** _The door is still closed._**

What door?

 ** _Step forward._**

He did. What else was he supposed? Compellence to do so came from somewhere he could not guess, but this was the first direction he had in this haze-filled dream.

He walked towards the center of the platform, where a light shone clearly above. He felt warmth in its glow. A welcoming change from the dower shadows from before.

 ** _Power sleeps within you._**

A shift in the platform. The ground moved only a little, but enough to get his attention.

From his left, right, and behind him, three spires rose. Similar in design, they were the first obvious change to this rather pretty mural. But the changes did not stop there.

 ** _If you give it form…_**

A shield. A sword. And an odd stick appeared over the three prisms. Appearing in bright gleams of light, they floated over them with obvious importance.

They seemed oddly familiar to Jaune.

 ** _It will give you strength._**

Strength. Strength how? Jaune's words were cut off again from his lips before they could even be muttered. It would seem he was there to listen, not to speak.

 ** _The path of strength, the warrior. Invincible courage. A sword of terrible destruction._**

The sword shined a little brighter.

 ** _The path of defense, the guardian. Kindness to aid friends. A shield to repel all._**

The shield certainly looked more appealing, then.

 ** _The path of wisdom, the mystic. Inner strength. A staff of wonder and ruin._**

The stick twinkled at its end.

The obvious motion was to choose one. That was what the voice was telling him.

Jaune Arc looked to all three.

Of course, as a boy, the most obvious choice was always the sword. Something which radiated the power within all young men. But he knew, from memory, that his ability with something like it was…limited. At best. And his ineptitude with such a tool, even in this bizarre dream, was not something he wished to think of.

The shield. His father, in a rare moment of teaching, spoke of the importance of the shield. How if he were to ever have need of tool to protect himself or another, the shield would not do him wrong. That above all others, it would keep him alive for much longer than anything else. His father had…a larger piece then this. But this could serve his smaller frame just fine.

Then the staff. There was something otherworldly to it. Something beyond anything he knew. A potential that he did not know but felt strongly to wish for. To know what might be within him or what the staff may hold. How tempting.

Choose…choose…choose…

He stepped onto the platform and reached for the shield.

 ** _You have chosen the path of service. Of sacrifice. To bear the weight of the world and press on through it._**

The shield vanished. A shimmer of light, passing through his chest. He felt a brief tightness where it went, but then it vanished as quickly as it came.

In return, he felt something…warm. Nice.

The ground shifted. The platform, and those around him, fell into the mural.

 **::HEARTOFANARC::**

Jaune almost fell to his knees but managed to keep standing. Something was not right, he could already tell. The shadows were starting to shift around him. Creating a sound that did not bring comfort or sound feelings.

Then, the mural shattered. And he fell.

But this time, Jaune did not feel so lost. And his fall was not so long. For a new mural appeared to catch his fall.

This one was similar to the last. A long, dark-haired girl. Younger than he was, by the look of it. Unfamiliar, too. Dressed in very fine fabrics. Her hands were pressed together, as if in prayer. And her eyes were shut closed, though rather softly. Like she, too, was asleep. Three circular images surrounded her; a silver-haired man, a dark-haired man in a mask, and a beauty who looked similar to the girl. A mother, maybe? Jaune didn't know.

He felt a pulling in his chest. The light returned, twisting around himself before falling into his hand.

The shield returned. It's sudden weight not even phasing him.

 ** _You've gained the power to fight._**

Fight? Fight what? What could you fight with a shield?

He gave the new tool a swing. Brought it close, to protect. The teen supposed, at the right angle, with the right thrust, he could do damage with this thing. But it wasn't the sword…

 ** _There will be times you have to fight._**

Jaune's eyes twitched to the side. Something moved. Something in the shadows at the edge of the mural. A couple somethings. Then more. Shadows twisted out, scurrying small forms on the ground. Wriggling and twisting. With beady, yellow eyes.

 ** _Keep your light burning strong_** **.**

Light? What-

The shadows took solid form and leapt for him.

Jaune tried to yelp with his silenced lips, bracing his arm with shield in hand to meet these solid shadows. They moved with warped and awkward shifts, maybe meant to throw him off. How awkward they were with their small, clawed hands. Their staunch legs and small feet. And their heads – pure gold eyes with antennas at the top and nothing else. What simple creatures.

They held weight to them, too. Jaune pushed one off, holding the shield as right as he could. How little practice he had with sword, it was even less with shield. He thought himself an idiot for choosing such a tool then.

He swung at one creature. The shield would work well, he hoped. But the monster fell into the mural, disappearing from touch. A more literal shadow in the ground.

He kept himself up. Another little monster went at him, only to meet shield again. Jaune struggled less with this one, pressing him back easier than before.

 ** _Go! Now!_**

He listened. With the creature thrown, he was stunned. He brought the shield around, smashing it's face in the side. Jaune felt the hit, saw how the creature flew back. It didn't even touch the ground before deciding it had had enough, and blew up in blackish smoke.

But now was not the time to cheer or feel good about his small victory. More came from the corner.

 ** _You can fight._**

And fight he did. With shield in hand, he rushed into the swarm. Perhaps by way of madness or a sudden idea that these twisted things were not so terrifying as he first thought, Jaune pressed into each one which formed onto the mural. The swarm was dealt with in short order. The remaining few fled back into the dark.

 ** _Your heart is strong. Very strong. Not everyone would deal with such foes as you had._**

Jaune felt himself beam at the words. Praise might not have always been so normal a thing for the Arc boy to receive.

But it would not last long. The mural began to change. Its color changing into black, with the girl's figure and fellow faces quickly being swallowed.

Jaune tried to shift away, but there was little room left to move.

The shadows got him again. And this time, they took a hard, uncompromising hold…

 **::HEARTOFANARC::**

Jaune felt as if he were fighting the shadows still before he realized he was back again. Back onto another painted stage.

A blond, this time. A pretty one, too. Dressed in white and sleeping. She had very pointed ears, that much he could tell. And in her hands, a triad of triangles floated besides, as if being held by her. Protected by her. And there, just above her visage, sleeping alike, was a man dressed in green. He actually bore some resemblance to Jaune, in some manner, but with harder features. More people he did not know.

But there was something there.

This mural seemed odder then the others. At the end of it all, close to the shadows, as a doorway. The light above shined on it, the reflection needing Jaune to cover his eyes.

 ** _The closer to the light you walk, the longer your shadow…_**

Jaune made to move towards it. He did glance to his back and, sure enough, his shadow did start to grow longer. He paid it little mind. This was his exit. Exit from this wicked dream. He meant to take it.

 ** _The greater your shadow becomes._**

The light seemed to grow a little brighter as he narrowed himself to its handle.

His shadow only grew.

 ** _Always be aware of this._**

The words held some warning then. Jaune's eyes widened, as he felt a pull from behind.

He twisted around, and his shadow leapt up to greet him.

A copy of him. That's what it was. A darkened version of Jaune, copied down to the hairs on his head. But where blue eyes should have shown back, only a pair of yellow met his own.

The teen stepped back, making towards the light of the door with earnest.

The shadow only grew. Its arms began to expand. The fingers filing into long, sharpened claws. Its legs spread out and grew, abnormal in height and stance. Its face fell into something unfamiliar and threatening, no longer the young boy it resembled briefly.

And still, Jaune backed away more into the light.

 ** _But don't be afraid_**.

Too late.

Jaune turned around, hoping to find a door beckoning to opened away from this place.

But the door was gone. Only the accursed light remained. A light he now stood directly under.

 ** _And don't forget…_**

Forget? Forget wh – ah, _screw it._

Jaune turned himself again. Shield raised, he felt ready to fight whatever terrible thing was coming.

But who was to suspect such a thing of nearly thirty feet, built like a monster, dark and ugly and oozing malcontent was to be their opponent. What nerve or steel in heart could prepare for something of such obvious malice or distrustful intent?

Not even the monsters of his world compared to this.

The goliath raised his hand high above. It glowed an eerie violet and red, swirling and pressing against its palm. It looked down to the boy, scared stiff by his own shadow, and aimed to bring the fist down for a quick end.

But perhaps there was still some instinct in Jaune yet. He leapt back, rolling with a certain lack of grace as the hand fell into the platform's mural. The blow and force should have been enough to smash the painting and the platform with ease, but a curious thing instead happened. The monster's hand sunk into the structure, twisted down with the same black and violet power from before. And the monster seemed none too interested in removing it.

Jaune didn't need to wait long to find out why.

Monsters began to spawn from the planted arm. The tiny little shadow things from before. And they were coming in spades.

He might have felt comfortable if it were just them. His confidence still lingered somewhere within him.

But this monster, this ominous thing…how could he fight that?

His fear made the beasts grow stronger. More nimble and aggressive. One fell to his legs, immobilizing him. The rest quickly followed with aggression and intention. Their claws made to rip his flesh and claw his sides. Screaming was not an option in this place without voice. And weighed down as he was, Jaune had little else to do but feel the pain and watch as the monster of his shadow stretched and loomed over him. Yellow eyes peering behind black, wild locks of hair at its former owner.

He lost.

 ** _Don't be afraid._**

The platform and the mural began to sink into shadow. The dark power spread and twisted. And Jaune felt himself begin to sink again. He did not imagine it would have such a kind end as before.

 ** _You hold the mightiest weapon of all._**

The shadowed force gripped his arms. His legs. His clothes. His hair.

 ** _So don't forget:_**

The shadows closed into his eyes. What light remained began to flicker and dim…

 ** _You are the one who will open the door._**

 **::HEARTOFANARC::**

As far as odd dreams went…yeah, Jaune could honestly say he'd never had worse.

Waking up soundlessly, with his back to a tree and the warm breeze of the summer day passing through his golden locks, he momentarily forgot the extreme, unnerving tension he felt most likely not a moment before. His eyes did not immediately widen, his hands did not go up to guard from some shadowed, nameless, formless but undoubtedly dangerous things. And even when his tired mind did recall the whole thing, or at least the intense, dire moments of his sleep, he did not find himself too unraveled. Most of that came from a still lingering exhaustion from his earlier day practices.

Sitting beside him, just within arm's reach, a roughly carved wood shield and sword waited patiently for their crafter to give them another whirl. They were battered and unprofessionally made, not entirely suitable for the means by which the Arc child sought to use them for, but what else was a boy to do when his family largely forbids all forms of Hunter training? Answer; improvise.

Finding the wood was easy. Sticking them together wasn't hard. Carving them into makeshift combat arms, resembling his grandfather's classic Hunter tools, was a bit trickier but not impossible. He was sure he got the weight wrong, but it wasn't like he could sneak into his father's study, measure Crocea Mors out properly, and have it returned without his notice. The last time he tried, when he was seven, he would never forget the punishment he received from the casual action. His father was a stern man. Kind and fair, at times. But you did not touch the armory without his permission.

So, since training and using proper tools was out of the question, that left plan B.

'Suck it up and make do with what you have.'

Self-teaching and hoping the videos of Hunters and Huntresses fighting would help were proving…minimally successful, at best. But, practice makes perfect, as his Mom always said. Though that was more for his attempts at learning the guitar at one point in his life than actual combat training. But it still worked under the same basic principle.

Jaune was relaxed now. No great shadow. No darkness. No weird platforms or pictures or girls.

Just the grass. The woods. The sun shining and the birds chirping away.

His home.

What a relief.

He let out a long yawn, still feeling the fatigue from early-day exercises. His arms stung a little, his fingers would have blisters he'd need to pull, and it felt like he pulled a muscle at a twist he was woefully ill-prepared to perform. Still, hard work paid off. He didn't need an academy or his father's help. He'd be a hero, like his grandfather. Traveling the world, slaying the monsters which bated the people, standing proud and earning the recognition his name used to have.

He started late, he knew. His sisters told him so. Said he would be better off as a musician.

But he still had time. He told himself that. He could still be-

"Jaune!" A voice called out from the woods. "Jaune! Time to come home! Mom made lunch!" His sister's voice.

"I'll be right there!" He yelled back, knowing if he wasn't quick, his sisters would ravage whatever small feast his mom undoubtedly prepared for them. And he needed his energy; training was hard work. And he really didn't trust his own skill in cooking something up, that's for sure.

The boy stood up quickly. The muscles in his legs hurt less than his arms, but still held a tightness he could ignore. He pulled his sword to him and gave it a toss into the hollowed hole of the oak he decided to rest on. It wouldn't do to leave his only tool to the elements.

Or worse, his mom or _dad_ found them.

He pulled his makeshift shield up, knowing it would have to in, as well, but paused before giving it a toss. The memory of his sleep coming back to him.

That odd shield was heavier. But the extra weight made it feel more natural. Balanced, too. Maybe he would add something to this to make it feel more natural. It couldn't hurt, really. It almost felt like he was used to the weight now, even if it was just a dream.

"Hmm. A _really_ weird dream," he corrected his thoughts.

He tossed the shield into the tree and made off running for home. And whatever thoughts of his unusual dream soon left him.

It was probably unimportant.

 **::HEARTOFANARC::**

Garen Crownguard.

Born to the family of Crownguard charged with the defense and protection of the king of Demacia, firstborn child to Pieter Crownguard, who served under and stood as the shield for the current Demacian King, Jarvan Lightshield the Third. He was a giant of man of significant presence, walking steadily through the great white halls of The Citadel of Dawn. Arrayed from toe to breast in heavy but well cushioned armor, made only for the most exemplary of men under the Dauntless Vanguard, Garen towered over his fellow knights and men by sheer bulk and appearance. Cleanly cut and sternly looking, he was an ever-proud protector of his home and people. A recognized figure, admired by many, and an honorable sir who would one day take his place as protector of the royal family and give his life for it, so if it were asked for or required.

But right now, he was unamused.

Before he would stand beside his king, heirs to House Crownguard were first stationed to the protection of the heirs of House Lightshield. Namely, Jarvan Lightshield the Fourth; Prince of Demacia. A prince who, conveniently, was away from his chambers without notice to his stationed men or maids or housekeepers to his location. Without location, Garen found his position as prince protector to be somewhat difficult.

Now, Garen did have some patience. It was a well-known and recognized fact that the prince and his guard were friends of the deepest bond. Brothers, if not by blood, then by strife and tenacity alone. By conflict fought together and hardships stood side-by-side against. They joked and laughed and shared many a secret between the other. Some no other man or woman could have known of or even suspected. Both would fall into the deepest pits of the Noxian Empire to see the others safe and sound, and had done so before.

But still, when his lord decided to go wandering off without word or notice, Garen's job became understandably tedious.

He had some manner of idea where he was. The same place he remained in for some days, studying everything from ancient lore to old texts to even the stars. While Jarvan was a man of learned combat, his equally astute and scholarly background could not be disputed. And of late, his mind and eyes had been to matters Garen had little understanding towards.

For the last couple months, he'd found the prince oft in the same location. In the family study, atop one of the highest towers, connected to an observatory which he found to be moving more often than not these days. Sometimes it would be pointed east, west, north, south, anywhere and everywhere. What for, who was to say. Maybe only Jarvan and the gods truly knew.

Still, as he made his way up the tower, he already prepared his usual morning greeting by heart. Should the prince have worked through the night, normal greetings and advice to seek rest at the next opportunity would be a must. If he was resting in his chair, normal morning greetings and a mention that a bed made for a far better resting quarter then the old tower could ever hope to be. And if he should have been drooling again into some old, priceless passage of antiquity? Normal routine, with a small jab at his predicament. Maybe with a mention of how dragging his armor up the tower's narrow walkway was a chore in itself, with a little banter to wake up the prince. It always lightened the mood.

"My lord," Garen called through the door, knocking with his large, armored glove, "might I enter?"

No answer. Which meant he might be sleeping.

Garen entered afterwards. He needed to be somewhat careful where he stepped, the room held text older than his household and infinitely more valuable than anything his family owned. There were titles and authors and information he most certainly could have spent a lifetime trying to discern, and most likely being no further to the truth of whatever he read since his first day at trying. Garen was a warrior, not a scholar. His sister would probably have appreciated this place far more than he.

"My lord?" He called again. The front desk of the study, where books stacked above one another in great lengths, was empty of any manner of movement. Garen's eyes went above to the second or third levels. No sign of a prince to be found.

Hmm. Well, this was not necessarily a bad thing. Though no one had seen him in training or with the king, this did not necessarily mean anything. Perhaps he was simply by the observatory; the sun was rising, but some stars could still be made if looked for.

It was then, as he made for the door, that his eyes caught the small piece of paper on the desk.

This would not be so unusual, yet it bore a strange seal on it. Not of House Lightshield, but the insignia for House Crownguard. And how it laid so plainly away from all manner of books or disturbances, it was obviously there to be seen. Seen, maybe, by him.

This was unusual. And part of Garen thought better than to read it, in fear that such a gesture would be wrong or inappropriate.

Still, Jarvan wasn't here. And he was his friend. And this paper did have his family crest holding it sealed…

He opened it quickly.

 **::HEARTOFANARC::**

"Lux! Lux, hold on!"

Luxanna Crownguard, or more commonly referenced by her friends and family by the affectionate 'Lux', turned around when her name was called by a familiar voice. She was a young, blond maiden, attired in light armor and dressed somewhat cleanly in blue. And, like her father, brother – Garen, the man running towards her in loud, frantic steps – and many Crownguard before her, she was stationed in the citadel in service to her majesty and king. Dutifully. Happily.

The young woman smiled beamingly to her new arrival.

"Garen!" She shouted to her older brother. "Good morning! It's been awhile, how are-"

" _Shhh!_ " Garen hissed, bringing a large hand to her lips, shutting her usual greetings promptly. A surprising action for the usually well-kept soldier, but there was something off about him. His face was covered in sweat, his eyes wide, and…where was Jarvan? Those two were usually connected to the hip at this point in the day. "We have a situation!" He whispered, pulling the young woman off to the side of the hallways and into a crevice for some privacy. "A huge, horrible, dastardly thing has happened!"

"Hmm? Like what?" Oh, did Jarvan get captured again? Garen was just getting over his failure from the last time it happened. "Brother, you look like you've seen our uncle's ghost, what's wrong?"

"Something-something! Gah!" His hands went to the short strands of his hair, looking as if to try and pull them out. "I-I need to tell you something, Lux! But it has to be kept a secret! A secret about the prince!"

A secret? When was the last time he trusted her with something like that, she wondered? About the prince, no less. "A secret? A secret from who?"

"Who?! Everyone!"

Oh, quite a secret, then. "Like from Shyvana?" A member of Jarvan's Elite Guard. Maybe only the second most important person to the prince's life, and that was sometimes even debated on in hushed rumors.

"Without question."

"Quinn?" The equivalency of Demacia's own spy. Another close friend of Jarvan, too.

"Absolutely not!"

"The king?"

"N-we'll report it to him soon," even Garen hesitated to keep something from his majesty. "B-but between us, I have to tell you something of the utmost-"

"Oh! Hi there!" Lux turned her head around her brother's mass, pointedly looked around him and waving cheerfully to someone outside Garen's view. "Good morning!"

The giant of a knight looked confused to where her sister's attention turned. He moved himself around, casting his eyes back.

There stood Shyvana, the half-dragon. And Quinn, the ranger, with her trusted falcon by her shoulder.

Both looked less than impressed with him.

 **::HEARTOFANARC::**

Jack Arc was home.

Oh, what a wonderfully tense expression crawled on Jaune's face. Walking into the room, seeing the patriarch of the house. His visage was not some terrible thing, seeing how his sisters doted on him or how he smiled and laughed at their wanting of his attention. His blond hair cut short, his face rugged with lack of shave, but he was handsome all the same. And his smile, tired though it might have looked, really did show off some measure of elderly handsome that hadn't waned in the years since he could no longer call himself a young stallion.

"Dad," Jaune greeted by the back door, "you're home early."

His father turned his attention to him. His good-natured smile and relaxed edge seemed to fade and stiffen. "The grimm didn't prove too troubling," he answered his son. "I managed them and decided not to waste any time getting back here."

A casual answer. Jaune nodded stiffly. "Good," he said. "I'm glad."

Jack nodded back. "You look well. How have you been?"

As standard a question and greeting as the boy was used to. "Fine," Jaune answered, "just fine."

"Doing anything? Doing good?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm just…I was walking."

"Walking where?"

"Around. Just around."

"Hmm."

Jaune's eyes tried to keep to the man, but fell to the ground. He felt so small, even when his growth spurt was just starting to kick in.

"Well, alright. Grab something to eat." The older Arc male lifted himself from his chair. His daughters moving around with food on plates and in-hand to move out of his way. "Be sure to tell your mother thanks. And clean up any dishes she has."

A standard chore. Ordered and not to be argued with. "I will," he nodded, still avoiding the older man's eyes. "Glad to have you back, Dad."

"Hmm. Yeah."

He left his son to the kitchen, his daughters following behind. Amazing how such active bunch of young girls could seem so quiet in a room when the two were together.

Jaune stood still for a moment, waiting for his father to be out of sight before moving to what food remained. Bit of meat, bit of fruit, and still some milk to work with. Plenty of it left for a growing boy to be full from.

"So there's the missing teenager of the house," an excitable chirp sounded behind him. A middle-aged woman, blond hair tied into a bun above her, just showing the barest sign of age. She smiled a wonderful smile towards the lone figure in the room. "I was starting to wonder if I only had a small army of girls to deal with. Glad to know you didn't run away when I wasn't looking."

Jaune swallowed his food and smiled. "Hey, Mom."

"Why, hello there, sweetie," the matron of the Arc' house moved herself around towards the food. Smile never leaving her. "Didn't hear you wake up this morning. Leave early again?"

She thought he was helping the Coppers with their farm work. "Y-yeah. Denson wanted a little help with a new horse he got," he lied. For the last few months, he'd started to become rather good at it. And since the Coppers were more than happy to play along, this made his tale a little easier to sell. They were a bit kooky like that, but Jaune liked them. Sold good quality milk to his family, too.

"Well, that was nice of you. I can see your starting to build a little muscle there. Good to see old Copper putting you to the grinder."

Jaune actually beamed a little, trying to look casual as he measured his arms. "Thanks."

"So, is that what you think you want to end up doing? Being a farmer?" It was an innocent enough question, but one with implications behind it.

Jaune saw this veiled question easily enough and stiffened slightly. "Maybe," he practically yelped, his mother joining him at the table. "I'm still thinking about it."

"Well, you know that's what my dad, and you know how he felt about it," his mother's dad, not his dad's. His dad's dad was long gone. "I won't turn you away from something you like, but I will warn you. It's hard, honest work, but you best be sure you've got the stomach for it. I'd like if you tried out a few other things before you set yourself down, if that's not too much to ask," she took a large bite. "Just…just be sure you know what you want to do before you stick to it, alright? You still have a bit of growing up to do. Want you to test all your options out before settling on one. Sound good?"

He _was_ testing his options. "Y-yeah, I think I can do that." He took a finishing bite of his apple, nearly taking some seeds with it. "I'll keep that in mind."

"That's my boy. Oh! And your father's back! Be sure to say hi to him, you know how he just loves when he sees you."

She missed their greeting, he guessed. No surprise; with his daughters, Jack was almost cheerful and loud in his words to be heard even from the furthest corner of their home. But towards Jaune, a quiet and soft tone was often used to convey the standard greeting of two Arc men.

Jaune had his doubts on the truthfulness of his mother's last claim, but nodded behind his apple regardless. Creating household drama didn't interest him like some of his siblings. "Yeah, I'll be sure to do that."

"Oh, I know you will. Come on, be a dear and help me with the dishes, would ya?" Jaune didn't even look surprised by the swiftness of the woman's ability to devour her meals with ease.

"That's alright," he said, "I've got it."

His mother actually looked touch. "You are just the sweetest, you know that?" Jaune moved over to the sink, his mother giving him a quick touch on the cheek before moving towards the somewhat dulled sounds of teenage and adult sisters ramming their father with questions on his latest exploits. Ones he sounded only to eager to answer.

And so, in the quiet of the kitchen, Jaune passed the time cleaning.

Thinking about what 'Hunter Exercise' he might try next.

 **::HEARTOFANARC::**

Jaune came back later in the day again, when the sun began to set. He was covered in sweat, aching in the arms, but it was of a good kind. Effort and exercise. He felt stronger every day. More confident. His left arm hurt more today than usual, after finding the means to add further weight to his passive shield. It didn't quite meet the same standards of his dream, but it was closer. More natural and sturdy. He rather liked it.

Still, he limped into the doorway, rubbing his face into his clothes and certainly stinking up the room. He called it a natural musk from hardwork. His sisters had decidedly less kind words to say.

"You stink."

Yes, like that.

Jaune actually yelped then, the sudden voice throwing him. "D-Dad!" He cried, looking towards the living room. "H-h-hi! You, there, hi!"

"Hello," the older man replied, "you're back late." Jack Arc sat in his personal chair. A chair Jaune only found himself able sit in when his sisters were away, his father gone, and the house empty. It was a nice chair, but most certainly his father's. No one dared sit in if he were around, though his sisters might have gotten away with it as a practical joke in their young, cuter years. Jaune would only get a look, telling him to move. One he never disobeyed.

Presently, the older man was busy. In his hand, a long sword sat in his lap. A weapon of slender steel, wide as Jaune's stomach. Jack's personal weapon, which weighed more than Jaune himself. His father was giving it a good fixing while his shield waited just out of reach.

Attila and Ancile.

"Were you helping the neighbors with somethin'?" The man working his weapon asked innocently enough.

"Uh, yeah," lying to his father proved more difficult than Jaune would have guessed. "I was, uh, you know. Mr. Copper wanted help planting his, uh, onions."

Jack kept sliding the whetstone over. "Onions? Aren't those better planted in the winter?" He did pass Jaune a curious glance.

To his credit, the teen only just managed to avoid a panic attack. "I-it's just what he wanted."

"Hmm," he stared into Jaune's eyes for a long moment, stalling in his care of the sword. Jaune tried not to look away. "Maybe Denson knows something I don't…" He went back to his tending. "Can you pass me my shield?"

Jaune's eyes widened only a little, glancing over to the thing by the wall. A tower shield, wider then he was. And by how, even in the few times he'd seen his father work with it, he knew there was a weight behind it.

"Sure," he went to grab its sides. The black metal was cool to his touch, not irritating the blisters so much. But his attempt at moving it back was surprisingly hard-fought. And the sudden shift – it almost fell on him. The weight of Ancile was something almost otherworldly!

"Careful," his father said casually, not bother to even look up to his son struggle, "it's heavy."

Jaune didn't disagree. His hands went around it and shifted himself to give it a lift. Took him a good moment to not collapse from the effort. Dragging it over would have been a far easier task, but his father would have likely criticized him for the act. Probably would have damaged the flooring, too.

One step. Two steps. Three steps. Four. Five. And final six, he tried to bring the shield down as carefully by the man's side as he could. He already felt a new sweat beginning to take over him.

"Thanks," Arc senior said, giving Attila a last look over before carefully lowering it aside and taking at Ancile's handles. With how easily he managed to shift it over himself, and how the chair groaned in protest, Jaune could only marvel at the sight quietly. His father was a real Hunter. "She's served me well," Jack began to talk again after a moment of looking the bulk of metal over. "Ancile here? Remember when I got her? You thought I bought you a snowboard." His laugh was good-natured, but Jaune still remembered the mistake and shifted embarrassed. "The Silvers made her. Heavy as a horse. They couldn't believe I could lift her. Hmph, almost couldn't believe it myself. No special attachments or advancements. Just how I wanted it.

"Too many hunters aim for great adjustments or make their tools into something multi-functional. Swords which turn into guns. Axes with rocket propellers. Shields which launch missiles. It's madness, really. And expensive, no question of that. Your great grandfather didn't need anything special to put a Death Stalker down. Just good, sharpened steel. And a truckload of confidence to help.

"Hunters today? They're becoming too dependent on them. I've seen it happen. The changing function will lock up midway. The dust dispensers implode or backfire or just run out. Even saw someone lose an arm because their axe's throwable return feature was too sudden and fierce to catch normally." Jack found a few dents. He reached for a hammer. "Too few Hunters these days. So many having to retire because of stupid mistakes. Or dying from them. We have those academies up, but truthfully? I don't expect even a tenth of this year's graduates will make it past five years. Only the really gifted will live that long. Ones who know how to fight past their weapons.

"Good steel. That's what these two are. I know what they can do. They're more than some transforming piece of metal with nifty functions. They're…simple!" He pounded a particularly difficult dent out. "Manageable. Very few surprises to them. Requires real skill to use. Not some application that's just as likely to bust when you need it most. The weapon does _not_ make the Hunter."

Jack paused for a moment, knocking out the last dent in the shield. His eyes looked distant. Long and hard.

"Do you understand what I'm saying?"

He looked up to his son.

Jaune stood by the entire time. Perplexed. Mesmerized even. He couldn't recall when was the last his dad talked with him for so long. He tried to look confident and understanding to whatever he was saying.

"Yeah. I…I think I do…"

Jack was quiet for a moment, staring at his son. Those blue eyes of his; a lighter shade then his. His mother's influence, most like.

"Wash yourself off. Your sisters are going to head into town. I think they mean to take you dancing."

One of the few things to do around. Listen to music and move to it.

"I'll look after them."

"Good boy."

 **::HEARTOFANARC::**

 _Garen,_

 _So, by now, you've probably noticed I'm not in the citadel any longer. Or, perhaps, anywhere in Demacia. I'm afraid that trouble has begun to fester that requires my attention. A darkness has begun to sweep amongst the stars. They are blinking out at an alarming rate, and I have concerns that the reasons may not be natural._

 _This shadow might find its ways to Demacia, so I have taken to discovering what has caused this disturbance. I hate to leave you, my father, or the entirety of my home but duty is calling me to see this danger felled before it can move forward._

 _I have been in contact with foreign forces. Those who have some inkling of the danger that is rising. They have told me of another, someone who might stand to challenge this darkness. Someone wielding a special item – a 'Key' – which could save our beloved home from demise._

 _I ask you to seek out this individual. Guide him. Protect him. Bring only what you think will be necessary. Travel light and quick to the Town of Traverse. A man by the name of Dante will be waiting for you. He will point you in finding this person. My father will help you in your next step. Bring him this letter, he will understand._

 _I cannot stress enough the importance of your new duty. The fate of everyone and everything might rest on our shoulders. It is a task I do not put lightly on your shoulders, my friend, but I see no other way this may be done._

 _Take care of yourself. And may our paths cross again soon._

 _Your friend – Jarvan, fancy titles and superfluous names and alike_

 _P.S. Do apologize to Shyvana on my behalf. She might kill me, if you don't._

Oh yes. This was Jarvan's writing.

Amidst a large hall, several men and women gathered by an ivory throne. The man who sat in it, elderly and holding an air of wisdom and presence, read aloud the parchment in his hand to his audience. He looked very tired then, dragging his fingers through his beard.

"A most troubling boy. Always so troubling…"

Garen stepped forward, hand to his breast and kneeling. "My king, I must apologize. I take blame for this-"

"If Jarvan wanted to leave, there would be very little you or I could do to stop him," Garen's king interrupted, waving off the youth's words. "My son has always been impulsive. Even before you both met. A trait, I swear, I have tried and failed too many times to quell." He shook his head then glanced back to the paper. "He is gone now. Beyond Demacia."

"Sir, our lands are vast. I don't believe he could have passed our borders so quickly. Give me time, and I would find his path and-"

"Thank you, Quinn," again, the king interrupted, waving a calming hand to the fierce member of his court, "but I doubt you would find him even if you searched every inch or crevice of Runeterra. No, I believe my son has moved beyond this land. And beyond this world, along with it. To a place I doubt even your Valor could find so easily."

The large bird at the woman's shoulder looked almost offended at the accusation.

"My king, I don't understand."

"In truth, I understand little of it, myself. But I know it to be true, from experience and the old tomes of ancient warriors and myths. How beyond the skies and to the stars themselves, lands of richness and untold wonders lie. Separated by great spaces which only the most…unique of transports may find. To these stars which seem to be blinking out, as my son has written. Meaning that these new worlds are beginning to disappear by terrible forces. And he fears that ours may soon be its next target."

Lux, standing by her brother, stepped forth. "This sounds almost of impossibility."

"Or madness," Shyvana, the violet-skinned, red armor clad woman added from the corner with a look which spoke wonders of her liege's actions. Disapproval being the strongest.

"Be it none or both, I still believe my son knows of some method to make it past these hidden borders which separate us. To step on soils no Demacian has ever seen or felt. In search of something that may stop this calamity from befalling us." Again, the aged king looked down at his letter. "I understand what my son asks of me and my part in his plan. But I am wary to send one of my vanguard on an errand such as this. I could not ask you so callously to put your life-"

"I would give my life willing, my king," Garen interrupted. "If the crown prince asks of it, be it command or wish, then I swear I would follow his word through with all purpose and ability." As colorful a declaration of loyalty and friendship could be found. Fitting for a Crownguard.

The old king only smiled. "With words such as those, how could I bar you further?" He stroked his chin. "Any and all supplies will be provided to you, of course. But I would not have you take this journey alone. The dangers will most likely be great, and a single Demacian knight is no army, no matter how renowned and fearless. No, I would send you with another. A volunteer, maybe. One I might allow leave. Who amongst this small meeting would be right to stand beside you, I wonder, through all manner of tribulations?"

"I would go. My life is bound to his, from this world or any world beyond. I will bring him back, unharmed and untroubled."

"As would I, my king. Valor will make short work of his enemies and make finding this 'Key' a short task."

"Ah, Shyvana. Quinn. I expected no less from either of you." He stroked his chin some more, looking over both willing ladies. "But, I am afraid I have matters that would require both of your expertise, at this time. So, while your shows of loyalty do you both great credit, I must unfortunately decline them."

Quinn relented to his words, ever a true Demacian. Shyvana, however, looked ready to set fire to something or anything. Perhaps only the thought of how the prince might react to her roasting his father prevented her actions being taken.

"Hmm…" Again, the king looked out. Deciding duties, possibilities, even relations to his close friend and protector's son. Then his eyes fell on someone who might just work splendidly. "My dear Luxanna. Would you please step forth?"

How curious. The youngest Crownguard did step towards the throne, kneeling beside her brother, who she could tell was eying her curiously.

"I would have you take up your brother's side. To assist and offer council where he might need it," the king could see the child's eyes widen and express surprise, even from where she knelt. His eyes were not so bad, just yet. "Would you be willing to take this arduous task with him?"

"…If my king wishes it," she spoke calmly, still knelt, "then I shall." She raised her head, as did her brother, looking to the other carefully.

"I am gladdened to hear it. It sets an old father's heart at ease to know he sends some his finest and most deserving of Demacia's men and women. Now," the king stood from his throne. Everyone straightened with him, "if you would please follow me. I will lay out what must be done. And provide you with what you will need to move forward with my son's plan."

The king began to walk to the side, followed by his entourage. Garen and Lux, following their king with their eyes for only a moment, rushed to keep up with him.

Lux had not the words to say on this matter. Only to know that to be given a grand quest to find a wayward prince beyond Demacia's domains, and beyond the stars themselves, was not so normally a thing given. Even to a Crownguard! And oh, the excitement she started to feel! Most unbecoming for a lady, but who cared! This was…incredible!

Garen was of a slightly more methodical mind. Already, he had plans in motion. Necessities which would be needed to travel light and quick. Rules which he would need to illustrate with his sister if this mission was to not only be a success, but to be without issue or flaw. The prince's life was at stake; he would not fail to meet the high expectations and standards the Crownguard name held for many and everyone who recognized their sigil.

Efficiency. Success. Honor. Duty.

They would find the lost prince. And this 'Key' in short order.

Garen of House Crownguard just knew it.

 **::HEARTOFANARC::**

 _Three years later..._

"… _the robbery was led by nefarious criminal, Roman Torchwick, who continues to evade authorities. If you have any information on his whereabouts, please contact the Vale Police Department. Back to you, Lisa."_

The broadcast shifted, but Jaune wasn't really paying attention. His focus was more towards the people in the flying ship he similarly occupied then.

Smiling faces, hopeful looks, young ladies and men checking their arsenals and equipment or making idle chat with friends or allies or those from academy life before. A nice moment, one even he could appreciate on his own.

Funny, he thought, on how he could feel so alone in a room full of some much connection.

But those were dower thoughts he did not wish to dwell on. Instead, he thought to more pleasant thing. To adventures ended and times changed. To old friends and relationships kept dear. To ancient evils triumphed over and how shadowed forces could be stopped. Beaten with nary anyone to be aware. To doing something grand and impossible and knowing that to tell anyone was not to be believed. To moments of laughter, camaraderie, kinship and connections that wouldn't ever disappear. To how and why he came back here. To this place. To his home. To see if just that, maybe, there was still a place here to for him to see. A place to feel normal again.

How joining a class full of teens and students who wanted to protect the world from armies of evil-personified was a good start, the Arc teen couldn't say. From a certain perspective, it wasn't too large a change from what he did before.

These were baby steps, as a close friend would tell him. A friend he missed already. And it had only been a month.

Yeah, normal. Maybe he chose a wrong career choice to fall back to after he left the last one.

" _Hello, and welcome to Beacon."_

Jaune's eyes perked up, distractive thoughts moving away. Someone was speaking now.

A hologram of a blond-haired woman in a white, long-sleeved top appeared at the center of the vehicle's floor. She wore a lengthy black skirt with a purpose cape behind her. Her face might have been called stern and maybe even intimidating to some, but she was still pretty enough. Regal was a term for her stance and posture. An authoritative figure, most likely a professor of their next destination.

She had the attention of everyone onboard.

" _My name is Glynda Goodwitch. You are among a privileged few to receive the honor of being selected to attend this prestigious academy._

" _Our world is experiencing an incredible time of peace, and as future Huntsmen and Huntresses, it is your duty to uphold it. You have demonstrated the courage needed for such a task, and now it is our turn to provide you with the knowledge and the training to protect our world."_

The recording was short and sweet and had the effect of riling the crowd. The other potential students moved towards the edge of the windows, looking outward. Excited whispers and mutterings filled the room, as the shuttle slowly started to descend on this high spired, wide and magnificent area of this campus of future heroes. How their next four years would be spent where the greatest of legends were made.

This was Beacon Academy. Jaune's new home.

Funny, the Arc teen thought then. The place actually looked a little familiar, somehow. Or he'd seen someplace like it, once.

Maybe in a dream…


	2. Chapter 2

**People actually liked this crap?**

 **FUCK!**

 **Now I gotta write another chapter. Otherwise, I'M AN ASSHOLE!**

 **::HEARTOFANARC::**

The first light of a new day wasn't even starting to show before the Arc's household son made his way quietly through the lengthy halls of the upstairs rooms, down the stairs which threatened to creak and wake the entire home, through the kitchen for a quick grab at some food and milk. All the while without so much as a whisper or a moment's pause; a practiced motion for himself some time now, and done for good reason. The last thing he needed was unwanted attention or words about his supposed routine with the Coppers. A routine which he would need to lie about or figure some measure of subverting the subject to other things. A talent he wished he were better with, but ultimately was more of a novice at it then he cared to admit.

The boy could only fib so much before a growing sense of guilt would wrack his mind.

Thankfully, age and understanding of his home's weaker or noisier spots to step on were familiar to him. Not so much as the bare touch of his feet to the wooded floors could be heard. Surely not enough to wake his sisters or mother, though his father did add some measure of worry or danger to his venture.

Thankfully, though, it seemed even his old man would not wake from his movements.

Though, actually, as Jaune stepped out to the back of his home, the reason his father's failure in hearing him became evident.

Jack Arc stood some ways away from the home. Shirtless, sweating, and face hard, he lifted a long bit of wood – a simple log – in his hand and carefully placed it down to the earth. Balancing it so, the Patriarch Arc brought his other hand up, lifting the simple axe over then bringing it down with an almost casual motion.

THWAK!

A perfect cut right down the middle. The pair of newly cut pieces of wood fell neatly to the sides, where Jack proceeded reached down to give them a couple of tosses over to the side, when a large mound of equally broken wood pieces laid quietly.

There had to be hundreds of them. And Jaune, staring by the doorway unnoticed, did recognize easily that such a pile was not there the day before.

A curious thing, but of minor concern for the teen then.

What held his eye, more for the unusualness rather than curiosity, was his father's being. Anyone with a clear look towards the older Arc male could see the sheer build of the man was something prevalent and earned through many egregious years of effort and training. His toned person and obvious size was nothing Jaune hadn't figured the man must have had even from his earliest memories of seeing him fully-clothed.

No. Rather, it was the man's skin that had him.

Scars are a trait many can appreciate based around the history of how they were received. Scars were cool, in some ways. Memorials to past adventures, activities, or moments which simply held some form of danger which left their mark. Jaune had no such distinguishes for which to speak of, save maybe a couple callused hands which weren't brag worthy enough in his opinion, but his father was different. All he could make out was the older man's back, but even that was enough to tell a history of conflict was had.

Small, large, short, long, shallow, deep; yes, there were scars. Easily a dozen or more. From his lower back to his neck. Even his arms, usually covered by long sleeves, had some to show.

Being no expert of Grimm, the boy couldn't say which mark came from what. He imagined the more obviously well-known Beowolf or Ursa had some doing for his father's appearance, but who was he to say if something more dire or wicked was the cause? All he knew was that they appeared quite grieving and most likely held remembered history to them.

The most he knew of pain were the stings of scratches, cuts, blisters, or the rare broken bone. A single look at the back said the elder Arc most likely more pain from only a single scar than Jaune his entire life.

It was aweing, in a way.

Did his mother know about them? Surely, she must. Did his sisters? Jaune couldn't remember the last time he'd seen his father so unclothed, if ever. He thought he would remember such distinguishing signs if he had. The young teen figured seeing his father looking as if he fell into a room full of swords and knives would leave a lasting impact to his memory.

For a long moment, did continue to stare at his father as he worked, but then silently worked himself away from his home and away into the woods.

His final thoughts? He would need to up his efforts if he wanted to earn a few scars of his own.

Maybe a long one across the eye? Girls dig scars, right? Maybe he could work on that…

 **::HEARTOFANARC::**

So often was the Citadel of Dawn so glistening and brightly shone that the darker catacombs could appear striking and an unnerving change to take in. Lux herself required a passive moment to be surprised by the shift in tone to her surroundings, while her brother seemed rather unperturbed walking to keep pace with their king. Whether that was due to familiarity with their location or perhaps the hardened attitude which only ever came from years under the rigorous conditionings Demacia was so proud of, who was to say. Garen always proved himself a paragon of virtue and bravery; what was a little dark and shadow to him?

"As I have already expressed," the Demacian King spoke up again at the siblings' front, "what I am about to show you is understandably personal. A matter of importance for both the security of the kingdom, and the military applications behind it cannot be underwhelmed in their significance. I have only had the most trustworthy, professional, and understanding persons allowed so deeply here. A personal trust between only a select few, of which I now add you both to. I trust that, as Crownguards, you will keep this matter secret with the utmost severity…"

It went without saying, the two agreed without issue. Before entering these lower places, Lux had tried to keep track of the number of guards and hallways the three of them had moved past and lost track after the twentieth turn or so. Their king moved at a remarkable pace for his age, with even the youthful pair requiring to up their movements to keep up. Whatever secrets or understandings were hidden underneath the Citadel, Lux felt certain it might have taken years to know everything behind sealed doors or cloaked corners around each crack or gallery. Not that she herself fancied the idea of being privy or spending time more than needed around such a hollowed space, but childish curiosity was still prevalent in the young woman. Her time under the eyes of Demacia had not yet quailed such personal feelings yet.

"There will be…unusual circumstances you might find whilst you look for the crown prince. Different peoples or ideas that you might find foreign or unbenign. But I would ask you to represent yourselves as best as you may under any such situations. To hold your Demacian honor and pride to heart and recognize you will not only represent your nation, but your people and world. You are not to change the people or place around you, only to work towards your finished goal of finding my son and ensuring his safe return."

World. There was the odd phrasing again. The king had mentioned many odd words in the last short while. How was she to interpret them? Where would they be heading? Past the Conqueror's Sea, perhaps?

The king stopped at the end of a long hall. A dead end, at that.

"Are you both ready?"

The Crownguards nodded, only just visible with the low light.

"Then I suggest you shield your eyes. The light can be a bit whelming…"

The old king tapped the wall. Once, twice, a shift to the right, thrice, down below, four. Then he moved back and waited.

He needn't wait long, though. A light sound of moving stone and brick became quite easily heard for the three as the wall began to deepen itself further into the foundation. Slowly, carefully, it fell back a good foot back then crawled off to the side. An unexpected shine quickly met the two youngest members of the trio, who even when warned seemed ultimately taken by the gleam.

The king was nonplussed as he moved forward. The pair only just made out his moving form, arms raised to cover their eyes.

"Your Majesty!" Garen yelled, being the first to move forward to meet their king. Lux followed after, disoriented but not about to leave herself alone in the unusual halls of the Citadel's under. She was certain she'd never find her way out…

Loud clicks and moans were the first thing either Crownguard noticed, their eyes still thrown off and blinded as they slowly adjusted to the new area. A room, vast and wide and oddly shaped, was now occupied by them. And what a curious place it was; gears a great size moved above, massive bodies of metal moved and lifted in rhythm, while the whirr of many unnamed things neither young man or woman could name made twisted sounds neither could have guessed on how to make even in their wildest dreams. Compared to the quiet and simple light of the crypts, this was a jarring dwelling.

"Gods…" Lux, blinking quickly with rings in her eyes, stood in awe at her new viewing. Garen had no words to see, but his expression was no different.

But even with all these weird things, what stood at the center was the most… _unusual_.

"Children," the old king spoke up, grabbing the sibling's attention, "I must introduce to you your guides." The man moved his hand to the side, gesturing towards a platform risen high towards the ceiling. "Gentlemen! Are you there?"

" _Yeowch!"_

The Crownguards looked up to the tower, as a cry and sound of rattling tools was just hearable of the metalworks. The sounds of a moving and cursing someone met their ears, just as the head of a small form looked over.

"Oh! King! Didn't hear you come in!" This new figure – which had a pair of long, wide ears, colored with a light orange and striped fur from chin to ear point – smiled down at them all. "How's it going?"

Garen actually bristled beside his sister. Such obvious disrespect wasn't something tolerated by the Demacian knight. Even Lux seemed taken aback by such lack of decorum, even when their guide only shook his head and refused to reprimand.

Instead, he maintained his regal figure. "Ratchet, where is your partner? I have guests in need of your expertise."

This new figure – this 'Ratchet,' as the Crownguard pair could only assume the yordle was named – only just seemed to notice their presence. "Hi there," he called casually, then turned back to the platform, "Clank! Rise and shine, buddy! We got work to do!"

The soft patter of feet answered his call, followed by some sound of softly shifting metals, before a newcomer – a small, humanoid automaton of some silvery-steel making – stepped onto the platforms edge. Three-fingered, short-legged, and with a head which even Lux could have easily wrapped her hand around. This new thing, advanced even in its stature and simplicity, had what might have passed as a pair of green, glowing eyes staring down at them.

The new thing – Clank, as the yordle most likely pronounced him – waved. " _Greetings, Your Majesty!_ " It shouted, a voice coming out of a small opening just under the eyes where a small mechanical trap opened like a mouth. " _And greetings onto you! My name is B5429-_ "

"Just call him Clank," the yordle interrupted, sounding almost embarrassed as he tried to make the correction, as if this wasn't the first he'd done so.

" _-and it is a pleasure to make your acquaintances._ " The automaton continued without issue, passing what might have been a smile to the three.

Lux seemed rather surprised by the metal thing. While this was not the first time the young woman had ever witnessed an intelligent, metal being in her life, such things were still very rare and difficult to make. And never one so tiny.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, as well," Garen seemed ever diligent, bringing his hand up to a fist and pounding it to his chest. A gesture of the vanguard's usual greeting, "I am Garen of House Crownguard. Knight of the Dauntless Vanguard. I offer you my greetings." Ever honorable the man, everything about him befit his position and stature.

His sister, however, did not even attempt a similar level of decorum. "Hello there!" She shouted. "I'm Lux! Also of the Crownguard House! Pleasure to meet you!" Her brother passed her a look she purposefully ignored.

" _The pleasure is all ours,_ " Clank greeted back, offering the slightest bow forward.

"Likewise," Ratchet's response was as casual as could be. "So, what can we do ya for?"

The king stepped up again. "Is it ready?" He gestured to the center of the room. To the large…something.

"Oh, she's ready alright," even from where she stood, Lux could see a fire start to burn in Ratchet's eyes, "putting her through the last bit of patchwork now. Tristi just got the forward guns mounted and set, while Heimer…Heirmey…Heimasamarawa?"

" _Heimerdinger._ "

"Yeah, the old guy just sent us the last few pieces for the nav system from Pilt just last night. Should have this baby fully installed and drivable in the next hour or-"

" _Twenty-four minutes, seventeen seconds, by my calculations."_

"What Clank said. This girl is otherwise all set for liftoff. Give Jarvan the good news, would ya? He'll want to see how she flies."

Whatever gibberish the skinny yordle was spouting, Lux only nodded dumbly. She could only guess her brother was of a similar boat, whilst who could say about their king.

"That is all very good to hear," the old man said, regardless. "But I am afraid I bring some unfortunate news. My son has spirited himself away to parts unknown. Away from Demacia, even, and I expect Runeterra itself. I do admit, I'd hoped he would have talked with either of you before his venture, but alas, it seems he did not…" he trailed off.

"Oh," Ratchet seemed surprised, "well, crap. Any idea where he might've gone?"

"None, I'm afraid. But we are not without a lead," the regal figure turned to his two citizens, who stood staunchly at attention at his focus being turned to them. "These two are some of Demacia's finest. My son has requested that they venture off to some 'Town of Traverse' in search of an item he has an interest for. A weapon, perhaps, which might save us from the blight which has been causing the stars to shudder and darken for some time."

Lux was beyond lost now, but Ratchet and his mechanical friend seemed to understand his words. They even slouched and appeared troubled by them.

"It will be a perilous task, but I was hoping that both of you would be willing to aid these two in finding my son. Monitor them. Guide them. Provide whatever aid you can in the hopes that they might soon bring my son back without harm."

"Oh, so this is a kind of quest, huh?" Ratchet asked. "Find the missing prince, get this whatever from Traverse Town, bring everyone home safe." Slowly, a smile widened across his lips. "I think we can help with that."

" _You can count on us, Your Majesty,"_ Clank responded, offering a bow of formality. " _It would be our honor to assist you."_

The king nodded, appearing to expect no less, then turned to the young Demacian. "Garen. Luxanna. There are no words for which I know that can express my humblest gratitude to you both," he placed his hand to his breast. "This journey will be unlike any I could imagine, and none for which I might understand. I will be sending you both into the unknown. If either of you feel uncertain under the terms I present you both, speak now. I can assure you both, no dishonor will come if you decide to do so."

Lux would have snorted if such an action would not have been 'unladylike' for those around her. She could already imagine what would happen next.

Her brother stepped forward, hand pounding his chest. "My king, Jarvan is my prince. More, he is my friend and brother. Were it within my power, I would raise our enemies and foes over and bring down great Demacian justice without hesitation to see his safe return," he stood a little taller. "You needn't ask if I would perform this duty, sir. As both on my honor as a Crownguard, sworn to uphold the duty of Demacia's call and my loyalty to the crown prince, I swear on my life, as I always have, to be the sword and shield and soldier to the crown. As only would befit the House of Crownguard."

He was ever the impressive soldier, that Garen. Even the king seemed impressed.

Lux only stepped up beside him and smiled. "Likewise."

Garen looked to be holding back a distraught look down to his sister, who in turn sensed his embarrassment and prevented a wider smile from gracing her soft features.

For their king, though, only a look of pure sincerity could describe him then.

"Thank you. Both of you," he knelt his head down, as close a bow as a king could offer anyone of lower status, and an obvious honor to anyone who received and understood it's power. "I will leave you with these pair. I can assure you both, Ratchet and his companion Clank will not lead you astray. And with their guidance, I have little doubt that I will see you both soon, with my son in tow."

Then, from the way he came, the Demacian King slipped by them both. The strange, moving-wall closing shut behind him.

Leaving them with the odd duo on the platform.

"So…" Ratchet broke the eerie, personal silence of the four, "let's get started then." His platform started to lower from its elevated place above, moving down the ground level of the room. "I've gotta make sure on a few things. First, do you have any idea _where_ you're going?"

"Nope," Lux answered easily. Garen huffed, crossing his arms but not arguing.

"You have any idea," Ratchet jumped over platform's small wall, which Lux could tell now was some sort of glowing, buttoned and switched platform, "what's going on here?"

Garen tried to speak. "Well, I-"

"Nope," Lux interrupted him. Again, to his irritation, but did not refute her.

"Uh-huh," Ratchet's face said he wasn't surprised, "and do you know," he pointed to the center of the room, "what _this_ is?"

In the center of the vast, underground room, littered with metal contraptions and machinations unknown and unfamiliar to the two Demacians, with all manner of intriguing devices and tools, it was perhaps the oddly colored thing at its center which boasted the most impressive unusualness of all.

Spanning almost as wide as the room was long, several stories tall, metal shined of an unusual orange and red with parts of yellow signature at front and sides, this unusual conglomeration might have passed by its design as an oddly colored ship. However, the sides were adjourned with white panels and guns beneath would certainly have been hampered by water if that were so. It was so square, hard and heavy looking; how could it float? Not to mention the glass dome above it, where seemed to be room for seats and viewing were. It seemed very rough and unimpressive with it's obvious sharp edges and design, but there was the making of something which could progress forward. A pair of odd cones sat at the back of its making; ports of exhaust? Or something more? Piltover was starting to become familiar with workings around 'thrust-based' machinery – could fire shoot out from these things? It seemed ridiculous, but Lux heard of odd openings like these in the rumors of Piltover's growing genius and wealth of technology.

Was this odd thing more advanced than its base appearance?

Lux wondered with curiosity. Garen looked uneasily at it all.

"Nope."

Ratchet didn't seem so surprised. "Well, good a place as any to start." The yordle pulled a large wrench, easily half his size, and gave the machine a few light touches. The metal resounded deeply to the touches, a testament to its density. "What we have here will be your ride from this world to Traverse Town. It's called-"

" _A Gamma-Uranium Mechanically Maneuverable Intertranversal Ship."_ Clank interrupted, smiling as he looked over the machine – or, ship – in it's odd magnificence.

"Yeah," Ratchet said, "or, we just call it a 'Gummi Ship' for short."

" _Hmm. Yes, 'Gummi.' Easier to pronounce, I suppose."_

The mechanics waited for any response from the two humans, who only seemed to stunned and confused to make out what was happening. Obvious confusion was obvious, Ratchet spoke up again.

"To make a long story short, a few months ago, Clank and I found our way into Demacia and-"

" _-Your Prince Jarvan was familiarizing himself with the intricacies of the Gamma-Ur…the 'Gummi Ships' making, fearing for the otherworldly problems that might be appearing soon. To counter this, he sought to manufacture this vessel, and so sought out professionals on ship making-"_

"-Which we just so happen to have more than enough of, if I might brag-"

" _-and we offered our assistance to your prince. We'd hoped it would do to insure our own survival, as we are not commonly from Runeterra ourselves, and would help assist ourselves with potentially finding our own way back home, as well. So, with that in mind-"_

"Wait!" Garen would have no more of this. Confusion and frustration at trying to understand the pair of them was, admittedly, getting somewhat difficult even for Lux. "One moment! I have questions, too!"

Clank's eyes blinked, surprised. "Oh, my apologies. Yes, I'm certain you do. Please, ask away."

Where to start? "You're not from Runeterra?" The first question from Garen seemed an obvious one to ask. "You're…otherworlders?" And odd word for his lips, but it seemed the right one to use.

"Yep, we are," Ratchet answered him. "A few dozen stars past this place actually. Why?"

"Why?" Garen looked flabbergasted by such a casual answer. "You, you're not from around here?! But you…you look like a…a…"

"A yordle," Lux answered, looking him over carefully. "An alien yordle. So weird."

Ratchet's smile dimmed at Lux's words. "I'm _not_ ," he growled, crossing his arms and looking most unhappy, "a _yordle!_ "

" _I apologize for my friend,"_ Clank defended his friend. _"He's received quite a few misunderstandings about his appearance being similar to this world's yordle population. It's very distressing."_ The small automaton paused, casually glancing over to the not-yordle and looking him up and down. _"…Though, I will concur, the similarities between lombax and yordle are striking."_

"Oh, not you too!"

" _Well, to answer your question, yes. We are not from Runeterra. As it so happens, our own world was consumed by a foul darkness, some time ago,"_ Clank decided to continue for his friend, who pouted to the side, _"being familiar with otherworldly traversing, we managed to escape before the demise of our home,"_ the robot's expression, stiff and metallic though it might have been, turned somewhat sad. _"Our means of travel, however, was damaged along the way. We had to settle here to make repairs, but we did not possess the currency of this country to purchase the necessary materials."_

"Bolts can't even buy scrap here. Who knew?"

" _Indeed. We've been looking for means of employment when your prince discovered us. He was…I'm not quite certain how he knew who we were, but he brought us in to fix and repair this old modeled ship for him. We assumed he would use it for his own means, which we found out to be for benevolent causes, but it would seem he has found another way off of your world…most curious as to how."_

Other worlds. Big thing in the center was a ship. A world traveling ship.

Even Garen, stunned and taken by all of this, was putting pieces of information together.

"Alright," the knight managed, "then, what is this all about?"

"I guess the prince wanted to send you off to Traverse Town," Ratchet answered. "A world just off from here. A day's fly, with this baby."

" _It is a common location for refugees of other worlds,"_ Clank explained. _"I am not sure as to how, but it would seem that with the many worlds which have been consumed of late, some of the individuals of those worlds have found their way to Traverse Town. It was the world we ourselves were trying to reach before settling here on your world."_ He scratched his metal chin. _"The reasons are unknown to me as to why so many appear there, but I suppose it is as good a place as any to start on whatever quest Prince Jarvan has bequeathed to you both."_

"The Gummi Ship will provide you with everything. Home, shelter, food, navigation, communication with us if there's a problem, everything you'll need to get to where you want or need to go," Ratchet seemed sort of proud at the declaration. "We made her as ready as she could. She'll serve you like a dream, no question of that."

It would seem a small piece of culture shock had taken hold of the two Demacian. The idea of other worlds, space-flying ships, and the prospect of leaving a home they've always known…they would do their duty, but this would take some getting used to.

"Alright," Garen spoke again, "so…what would you have us do?"

"Well, I guess I just gotta ask you one last question," Ratchet's eyes looked curiously between them, sizing them up even from his smallish stature, "do _either of you_ have _any_ experience in piloting?" He waited for a response. "Any at all?"

Silence was his answer. And the light shifting of Lux's feet and Garen's uncomfortable quiet cough in his hand.

"Right. Thought not," the not-yordle shrugged. "Well, no big. As it just so happens, Clank and I are something of expert flyers, ourselves. And we're about to provide you with our standardized, 'How to Fly a Gummi Ship in Three hours or less, Lombax addition'. Sound like fun?"

Learn how to fly a massive ship in three hours…both Crownguards looked somewhat nervously at the other.

" _You needn't worry,"_ Clank tried to reassure them both with a relaxed smile. _"I can assure you, my friend's teaching methods are mostly painless…"_

 **::HEARTOFANARC::**

Every town has a little spot or two where men and women may rest and find a small piece of nature's comfort in. A pleasant, quaint place where teens talk about with sweet, hushed words, adults recall with favored reminiscences, or children speak about in quiet whispers under the prospect that a dwelling may be haunted or cursed or infested with some manner of invisible things.

One such place existed in Jaune's little town.

Past a few bushels and trees, just away from the farming lands or regular homesteads, there is a rather large hill with a rather large oak at it's top. It's a simple green meadow with only a single large trunk, filled with a number of green leaves at its upper. A place where, on occasion, children would venture towards as some manner of testing their bravery, certain in their belief that sleeping grimm waited at the top. Teenagers would sometimes go to meet and have fun in whatever manner they felt fit a particular moonlit night's mood. Or adults would sometimes find time to sit under the branches or see if they could still climb like they could years ago.

Sometimes, activity could be rambunctious. Other times, it could almost seem to without life. Or like now, it could be only taken space of by a lone, resting teen.

As the sun started to fall for the night, Jaune pulled another splinter from his finger. This wasn't the first time his makeshift weapons, leaning idly beside him by the tree, had decided to leave him an unwanted gift at the end of the day. A pleasant show that his efforts were occurring and that progress, however slow, was being made. That, or maybe he was gripping the wood handles too tightly.

"Owowowowow!" A pained whisper escaped him. Nothing like his first days of training, with harsh sucked in breaths and curses. Now, he barely felt the pain, and reacted more to the general irritations.

Progress?

He reminded himself to go to the store at some point and procure a pair of gloves. The irritation would be moderated then. Problem was, he didn't exactly have money. And lying that he needed them for his 'job' felt worse than he cared to admit to. Say what you will about Jaune Arc, but he wasn't a thief. And lying for whatever intended purposes he truly had for his mother purchasing some gloves for him didn't quite sit right with him.

His sisters felt much easier with lying. Why couldn't he have their gifts?

With the last of the wooded horrors removed from his fingers, Jaune allowed a somewhat relieved breath and to relax over the view. He could see most of it all; the stretch of shops and spaces which made up the middle of town, the farm lands over the trees, the bits of activity from neighbors going about the last activities at the end of their day, and even just the tip of his home's roof where his mother was most likely making another feast for dinner.

He skipped lunch. Didn't even realize it until the sun was well-passed the time for eating. Now, his stomach was offering an audible growl, begging for substance.

One he was willing to answer.

With a step off from the tree, a quick stretch of his arms and legs and a last glance out onto his home, Jaune made for the bottom of the hill and home. The wind through his hair, the slight tingle of injured digits still lingering, and all with a relatively satisfied expression towards his day's work.

He would not think on his forgotten tools the whole way back.

 **::HEARTOFANARC::**

 _Present Day…_

Beacon Academy had all the appearance of something grandiose.

A castle in all but name, the academy was an impressive display. All the comforts and fine architecture which made for something as easily set up to stand as an intellectual institute as it could just have easily stood as a fortress for conflict. Whether history initially had the foundation developed as a means for some old war or other tragedy, there wasn't room to argue on the presence Beacon held above the Vale's capital was a sight unto itself.

And standing there, now, at one of its many landing zones, Jaune could understand why its reputation preceded itself.

Maybe he did feel something like pride looking over it all. While it was far from the most impressive structure he'd ever witnessed, knowing that it was his people who made this place with their own two hands did put a little smug grin to his lips. Maybe he was just a patriot that way, but knowing that great things could even come from this small world…

"Normal," he interrupted his thoughts, stretching himself out and adjusting what armor and clothes he wore anxiously. "Normal. Just be normal. Normal normal normal."

That meant not thinking about things before. That meant keeping two feet on the ground at all times. To think of this as a normal thing – a vacation.

A return to normal.

Normal sky; blue, a few clouds, no ethereal shades or unnatural colors.

Normal grass; green, clean cut and without immediate, hidden horrors hiding in the brush.

Normal buildings; these did not defy the normalcies of the world or spout great hidden secrets ready to end your life at any turn.

Normal teens; exploding in the middle of academy walkways in great bursts of red-

Wait, that last one may not be right.

Just past the entering airways, something unusual was occurring. A young woman – short of black hair with an interesting touch of red at its ends, outfitted in a thick black blouse with a draped red hooded-cloak pulled behind her, and with a light complexion – suddenly alit the area in a small burst of fire. A motion most unusual, even in Jaune's wilder moments of life. Especially when the girl seemed to, more or less, _sneeze_ the explosion into existence.

 _That's definitely a first for me._

The girl seemed thoroughly depressed. Unsurprising, really; sneezing fireballs would most likely come out as a distressing motion for just about anyone. Even he could attest to memories around accidental-surprise fires being an unpleasant occurrence. But then, it didn't seem like the actual reason for her anguish. Rather, the person talking down to her – an angry, tempered, and with no shortage of frustration on her lips young woman – that caused the darkly-dressed teen to cower.

" _Unbelievable!_ " The other young woman – a teen, wearing a pale-white combat dress which astoundingly matched her similar snow-colored hair with a rather striking beauty that Jaune could appreciate even off to the side – yelled quite vocally. "This is _exactly_ the kind of thing I was talking about! You, you're a complete nincompoop! _Ugh_ , you absolute- _argghh!_ "

Jaune watched them from the side, eyes casually glancing around. Youths walked and chatted and moved themselves further towards the academy's center. Without so much as a look or casual glance to the argument unfolding at the center of the landing zone walkway.

 _Teen explodes,_ Jaune viewed, _and no one thinks that's weird?_

Did exploding girls become a cultural norm when he wasn't looking?

"I'm sorry!" The smaller girl cried an apology. "I'm really, _really_ sorry!"

"You're a complete _dolt!"_ The white-haired teen was relentless. "What are you even _doing_ here? Aren't you a little _young_ to be attending Beacon?"

Beacon was mostly for those in their upper teens or above age group. Standard aging practices, from what he could remember. The girl did look a little underage – maybe she was just young looking?

"Well, I…I…"

The supposedly younger girl tried to answer, but it seemed her opponent was not one for mercy. Her relentless yelling continued with higher octaves, uttering other faults to the girl. Jaune was just close enough to hear the casual conversation, but he imagined he could have been halfway to the main building of the academy and still made out her screams.

 _There's waking up on the wrong side of the bed,_ he thought. _And then there's waking up, setting the bed on fire, throwing said bed outside the nearest window, then wreaking havoc on an international level._

The young man could only assume this white-haired beauty fell under the latter situation.

The younger girl proved to have some backbone, then, biting back against her shouter. Jaune wasn't aware of the usual societal norms which came with Hunters in-training, but it definitely seemed as if one was about to give into their nature for combat sooner than later. Would that mean he'd have to step in and try to stop it? Was that what people would do, or let them physically vent out?

How do you stop a pair of screaming girls?

Actually, come to think of it, why was he even watching this? As entertaining as a non-violent interaction involving sneezed-up fireballs and crazed girls in high heels could be, there were probably better things to do then.

Like figuring out where he had to go…

"It's _heiress_ , actually."

A new voice.

Jaune turned his focus back to the side, where a new figure – another young woman – stepped lightly towards the shouting pair. It seemed she was the only other person around who seemed to take notice of the quarreling duo decided to make herself known. A fair skinned girl, with long, dark hair tied lightly with a single black ribbon atop her head, wearing a black-buttoned vest overtop a white undershirt. A similarly colorless pair of shorts covered her lower half, while long black stockings covered each leg. Heeled boots covered her toes.

A striking new presence, even Jaune could admit (and he was something of expert around striking appearances). And if her stoic expression whilst looking to the pair wasn't obvious enough, her next words spoke _volumes_ about her feelings to the two.

"Weiss Schnee, daughter of Jacques Schnee and heiress to the Schnee Dust Company," the bow-girl spoke, amber eyes studying the white-haired heiress quietly, "one of the largest producers of energy propellant, general armaments, and weaponized dust in the world." Her voice was perhaps the most lackluster and stoic tones Jaune had ever heard.

Still, Schnee Dust Company. Jaune felt he should have known that name. A major manufacturer and provider like that – were they anything like Trevor Philips Industries?

Jeez, he hoped not.

"Finally!" Said girl – the now named 'Weiss' – smiled appreciatively to the newcomer, sending a look to her arguing rival. " _Some_ recognition!"

"The same company," the new girl wasn't finished, " _infamous_ for its controversial labor forces, _underhanded_ competitive choices, and _questionable_ business partners."

Definitely Trevor Philips Industries' Remnant-cousin. Great.

"What?!" The previously praised heiress bristled at the new piece of defamation. "How dare you-the nerve of- _you_ - _ugggh!_ " For a moment, she seemed ready to start a bout with passive new arrival, whilst the red-hooded girl made no effort to hide her new amusement. The heiresses' eyes did shine with an icy glare that might have been enough to force some to cower in their place. But instead, she reached out her hand, snatched a particular vile of red-crystalized substance Jaune hadn't noticed before, and made her way off towards Beacon's central.

Victory for the new girl.

The previously being talked-down-to girl cried out her apologies to the retreating heiress, even as her pleads for communion went unappreciated. Not to be let down by the failure, she tried to express her gratitude to her savior…who was already leaving.

Her duty of sniping down the Schnee heiresses now finished, the amber-eyed girl walked quietly away, ignoring all manner of appreciation or thanks that might have been offered. The bow-girl walked off in another direction, away from the main building and away from her saved party. Whether that was the correct way to go or not, who was to say? Perhaps she only sought to create distance between herself and the area of conflict.

And just like that, the show was over.

With all parties scattering, it was time to make way for the auditorium. The magnitude of students made towards the center. Good a place as any to start; no signs or other indications where this 'initiation' was to happen. But cheerful grins and excited walks didn't seem to suggest they were being led astray, so it might as well have made for as good as any place to star–and the girl was down.

No, really.

The red-hooded girl was down. On her back. To the concrete, mumbling things as she stared to the sky.

Seriously, the girl was the definition of attention-grabbing. And that expression of hers; two-steps away from miserable. Ignored all around as what remained of the new arrivals stepped past her person without so much as glancing towards or trying to understand why this young girl had decided that in the middle of the walkway was as good a place as any to take a load off.

But Jaune did.

 _Stop._

He told himself.

 _Stop it. Go away._

The voice in his head was loud.

 _You don't need to fix everyone's problems. That's_ _ **not**_ _your job anymore._

Teens get depressed. Common fact, he could attest to it. And besides, interfering with other's affairs when they weren't his problem to begin with…that wasn't normal. That was not normal-progression making.

Everyone walking around? All the normal people? They were ignoring her. Going about their business, not caring that she was just lying there. Eyes closed. Not moving. And obviously feeling like crap. With no one to even give her a hand up.

 _Go on. Just move. One foot after the other. Follow the crowds._

Someone would be around to fetch her. Friends? Teachers? Vague business associates?

She didn't come alone, right? Someone else would come along for her.

…

…

…

Right?

 **::HEARTOFANARC::**

There are bad days. There are crappy days. There are craptastic days. And then there are days where you just want them to end abruptly because experiencing what remaining time is left would seem too terrible to imagine.

So far, Ruby Rose would say the last choice could easily describe her first five minutes at Beacon.

Oh, stepping out onto the walkways of Beacon, it was all so admittedly wonderful. The academy had all the appearance of something grandiose. Oh, it was everything she imagined it would be and more! Living up to the status and expectations her dad put onto it with fervor. The sheer look of it all more than lived up to its name by sheer awesomeness of look alone. And the people! The people had such amazing weapons! Nothing that could compare to her own, wonderful Crescent Rose, but then, what could? But still!

The first thirty seconds were fantastic!

Then her sister abandoned her. Left with some of her friends. Friends she thoroughly lacked, having been pushed two years ahead of everyone she knew back home to attend this renowned institution. Her sister, the one person she always thought she could rely on, left her to the metaphorical wolves to make friends on her own.

That worked _splendidly_.

How to make a long story short: she exploded, got into a fight with a crabby girl, got saved by another girl, got abandoned by both in the span of a few seconds, and then proceeded to find a very nice piece of flooring to lie on until either her sister came back to retrieve her or the buzzards picked the morsels from her flesh.

"Welcome to Beacon Academy…" she mumbled, eyes closing as even the sun seemed to hate her then by brightly burning a little harder. Even her eyes couldn't stop all of the light.

But then, a shadow fell over her. A relief from the sun away from her eyes.

"Thank you, sweet clouds…" She murmured to herself but refused to move or react to the small mercy. Her moping would last another five minutes, at least. She was fine with that.

"Uh, you're welcome?"

The young girl shot upwards from the ground. A masculine voice. Clouds don't have voices. Sitting up on her rear, she took to looking around in a surprised panic.

Standing not but a few feet from her side, a blond-haired student – a boy – stood over her. He had a curious look to him.

"Are you okay?"

Ruby, realizing how her place on the ground and her 'thanking clouds' might have looked, nodded fervently. "Yes!" She cried, maybe a bit louder than intended. "I mean, yeah. Yep. Definitely. I am a-okay! No problems here! We are good!" Even she realized the palpable levels of awkward in her words. Even her smile felt too forced for comfort. Ooh, he must have thought her some kind of weirdo in the fifteen seconds they'd known each other. Was that some sort of record?

If the boy thought any such things, he didn't show it across his face. "You sure?" He asked. "'Cause you look like you could use a hand." He moved his arm out to her, gloved fingers awaiting her. An open, helpful gesture. Innocent, even.

Still, Ruby studied him.

What was it her dad would say? If it's too good to be true, don't trust it?

Hmm…

Well, this new guy seemed nice enough, with blondish hair that reminded Ruby of her treacherous, abandoning sister for a brief moment. A pair of clean, crystal blue eyes stared down to her own, meeting her gaze. He was a tall boy, easily touching above six feet. His outfit was an odd assorting of blue jeans, sneakers, a brown hoodie and various pieces of armor which seemed loosely latched on to his person, but that was hardly important. Not like she, in her skirt, could judge anyone on their dress.

Right then, though, he might as well have been a knight in shining armor, for how much everyone else seemed to pass by her without cause for concern or thought. And his gentle look down to her didn't hurt that image at all.

Deciding then that he looked like an alright figure, and that more awkward or terribleness was not needed in that early hour, Ruby took his hand without issue. "Thanks," she said shyly, trying her best maintain eye contact even when the situation probably couldn't get any worse in her mind. What were you supposed to do now in these kinds of situations? "I-I'm Ruby," oh, yes! Introductions were good! Introductions made friends! "Ruby Rose. Nice to meet you."

The boy's smiled a little. Was that a good thing? "Jaune," the boy said. "Jaune Arc. I'm a new student here." Short, simple introduction. And he was so calm about it!

But, oh! This was small talk! Small talk was an initiation towards conversation and, by proxy, new friends! And they were here for the same reasons! "Me too!" Less excitement, less excitement! "I mean, yeah. Me too. I am a proud, new student to Beacon Academy." Was she overdoing it? Why was making friends so hard? "I, yes, I'm happy here be to. No, wait. To here, be. Uh, be _here_ …to _be here_ …yeah. You?"

If the boy – Jaune, she told herself – cared for her ramblings, his expression didn't show it. "Yeah, I guess I am," he offered, but the level of different tones between her obvious enthusiasm and him was obvious. Ruby sent him a curious look. "I'm," a quick pause, "I guess I'm just a little nervous."

Nervous? Nerves were relatable! "Yeah, I hear ya. I'm actually a bit scared myself. New place, new academy, new everything, first time staying away from home," was she mumbling? Did this count as mumbling? "I can get why anyone would need a sec to take it all in."

"Moving to new places can be tricky," Jaune spoke up, a knowing and familiar tone to his words. "Takes a while to adjust. Having a few friends around can help with that. Makes things much easier."

Ruby's lip twitched. Friends? Making friends? Like now? Was that a confirmation of friendship? Between them? Was that what was happening now?!

She kept calm. Maybe she was reading too much into it. "Do you have any friends here?" Innocent question. If he didn't, that meant friendship here! If he did, maybe he had friends he could introduce her to. Maybe he had a posse!

His smile shifted a little. "Sorry," he said, "I-I came here on my own."

And dreams dashed. But that was fine – option one was still available. "Hey, that's alright. I didn't really come here with any of my friends, either…" With the admission of being a loner, her feet shifted uncomfortably. "So, I guess that puts us in the same boat, huh?"

"Hmm. Guess so."

She waited for him to say more, but he didn't. Which meant…oh crap! That's a conversation-ender! Now where did they go from here? Awkward silences were the fourth most terrible thing in all of Remnant! They killed all moods!

"I, uh," speak girl, speak! "I don't suppose you're heading towards initiation?" She knew he was. Tried to word it as a joke, but her shyness showed. This was awful.

"I was," the boy admitted, "but I'm not exactly sure where that is." A new look came to him. Hesitation. Confusion. Maybe even a tad bit of awkwardness.

He had flaws! Uncertainties! She could work with that! "Neither do I!" She told him. "So, I have a suggestion: we should look for it. Together!" She cheered, with raised fist in the air and smile on her face. A picture of positivity.

Inwardly? _Please don't leave me…_

His eyes fell down to her. Blue looking into silver. She felt the need to look away, the sheer uncomfortableness she felt was palpable, but for fear he might walk away were she to even casually glance away like the girl before, she persevered to meet his look.

"That isn't a horrible idea…" Jaune admitted, nodding. Ruby's face glowed. "Blind leading the blind – what could go wrong?"

Was that a joke? He was smiling! They were joking now!

"Alright! Then off we go!" Ruby began to walk towards the center building, smiling and carefully listening as her friend's quiet footsteps followed.

Friend! Yes! One new friend! And now one incoming initiation!

This day was awesome!

 **::HEARTOFANARC::**

This was a horrible, _horrible_ day.

How much more uncomfortable could he have been to this girl? How was she still tolerating him? He'd dealt with people who could lift literal _mountains_ with more grace then this!

Ruby Rose. What must she have thought of him? The quiet, unhelpful Jaune Arc?

She was the one talking, the one moving them forward, even taking the initiative to pull him forward to wherever it was they needed to go. And all he had to offer was small pieces or words to give her. Advice of his own experiences, which she probably thought he was lecturing her now.

Seriously? And that joke? Blind leading the blind? More like the blind leading the blind, deaf, crippled, _stupid_ idiot.

"So, uh…"

Jaune's eyes perked. Ruby was looking to him, waiting, stopping in her talks about her home mixed in with conversations about Signal Academy and looking up to him.

 _Crap, did I miss something? Was I supposed to answer something?_

He almost gave a random answer – 'sure', 'maybe', 'sounds nice' – when the girl suddenly reached to her back.

"I've got this thing!"

Sounds of gears and mechanisms shouted loudly as her arms twisted around to her front. Fingers twisted and spun as the red thing behind her back began to shift and extend itself to a far larger length then before. A marvelous motion which showed obvious practice in.

Now, something long, metallic, sharp and with an air of impressiveness to it was held in her hands.

" _This_ is Crescent Rose!" She introduced her weapon. A quirky gesture, but one Jaune found amused with. "My own baby! I made her myself! Right down to every gear and screw, I made them all to every necessary specification!" Her hand went to a notch at the middle of its make. "It's high caliber, single shot, customizable sniper rifle, with imported Vytalian ore to make up the shaft and blade." She stroked it gently.

"You made that?" A lot of fancy words. None of which he really understood, but it certainly held an impressiveness to it by sound alone. His voice didn't quite express his full appreciation to the tool. If his dad could see this…well, he was more of an old-fashioned man, but he might at least appreciate it. Self-made things always brought a smile to him.

"Oh yeah! Everyone at Signal made their own weapons!" Everyone? Wow. "But Rose here is the best. Not a single one like here in the world." She hugged her weapon closely. The obvious joy and appreciation she had for it was almost charming. "That's a good girl. My very, very good girl."

A scythe. A gun. With an instant sheathing measure. And he had…

"So, what do you got?" An innocent enough question. Deeper implications than Jaune was willing to admit.

"Just this," from his side, he reached over, feeling a smooth, tightly wound piece of cloth wrapped around a straight bit of metal and wood. With a quick tug, a nice ring of steel filled his ear. A long, steel sword raised from its resting to shine lightly. "And, this," his hand went to the sheath, a white-metallic material, and gave it a casual nudge at its hidden handle. The thing sprung wide, creating a moderately sized shield. It was such a violent motion, even with his fingers tightly wrapped around it, the thing practically wished to leap from his fingers.

 _The spring still needs tuning._

His dad said it would be fine after a while, but the man had a distinct lack of specialty to customized items, so…

"Oooh," well, Ruby seemed impressed. "Does it come with a flamethrower? Is it a flame sword? Does it make things explode?!" Or, moderately, at least.

"Nah. Just a normal sword and shield," he admitted, "but the shield can turn into a sheath when I want to put the sword away. That's kinda cool." He gave the pair a small wave, showing them off. Not exactly as flashy as the scythe, but it was half the reason he used them; they were nothing special.

"Wouldn't that still weigh the same?"

"Sure," Jaune admitted, giving his hand a light flick to turn the shield back into a sheathe, "but would you want to carry this thing around all day?" A light twist of the hand, and the sword was back to its place at his side. He was almost impressed the motion felt natural already. That's progress.

"Hmm. Good point," she allowed. "Well, that's still pretty cool. Don't see too many Hunters going for the classic these days. But I've always found the foundations to be solid in their own way." By how she said it, Jaune actually felt she was serious. Ruby was a kind girl. Definitely kinder words than he expected to get, carrying around a pair of hand-me-downs from a century back. And once upon a time, he might have felt somewhat poor for having such a casual, age old tools. Now, he felt humbled. Proud, even. He was really using something so-

"Hey, um," oh, more conversation, "sorry, I forget to say this earlier, but…I just wanted to…you know, for back there? When I was on the ground?" She shifted around, her scythe returning to her back. "Thanks."

He stared at her. "For what?"

"You know, for the hand," she smiled down to the ground, "I kinda, mighta, _maybe_ needed it? A little? So, you know, thanks for that."

Oh. That. "It was nothing."

"Maybe," she pressed, "but I still appreciated it."

Jaune stared at her for a moment. The innocent Ruby Rose. He almost felt guilty for a second, watching her being mauled by the heiress-girl now. Not a step or move to help her. Something the old him would have…

He pulled his eyes from her, turning to the buildings, stonework, grass – anything else. Which brought on a bout of uncertainty.

"Hey, Ruby?"

"Hmm? Yeah?"

"Are we going the right way?"

They looked to be in the middle of a small park. In fact, the main buildings somehow managed to appear behind them whilst they made their way along what they thought was the right path. Somehow, they managed to miss the old buildings entirely between their bits and pieces of conversation.

How? No clue. Perhaps the two were simply special that way.

"Uhmmm… _yes?_ "

 **::HEARTOFANARC::**

 **Jesus, why did I decide to keep writing this?** ** _This wasn't supposed to be a thing!_ This was the opposite of a thing! This was just a way to just get the writing juices flowing again!**

 **But this got people's interest?**

 **Aaaaaagh...**

 **Well, shoot. Did not expect that. Well, thanks for the kind reviews, still. Glad you're liking it, so far.**

 **And to show my appreciation, here's a poll:**

 **Who would you like Jaune to partner up with?**

 **Review. PM. Whatever - just get your vote in! I'll tell you the results so far next chapter.**

 **Hell, if you want, I can even possibly start considering the dreaded subject of _pairings_** **(Oh _,_ I'm getting shivers just thinking about it).**

 **I don't have any idea who his partner should be, I'll leave it up to you, the readers, to decide. Because fuck me, whatever you guys choose, I'VE got to figure out a name for the team!**

 **FUN TIMES AHEAD!**


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